


War Wounds

by DxTURA



Category: Puyo Puyo (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DxTURA/pseuds/DxTURA
Summary: Stubbornness gets you nowhere.July Twitter Commission
Relationships: Arle Nadja/Schezo Wegey
Kudos: 8
Collections: Urbinazation Works





	War Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for reading!!! Before you get started, there is something that I'd like to point out:  
> This fic was requested by a buyer on Twitter. To some, this fic might seem familiar to the point where they might recognize who bought it. I no longer associate with this buyer, but I am posting this fic because I am still proud of my work.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this message; I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic!

It was a normal day in Primp Town—at least, what one could _consider_ normal. The town was full of chaos (the funny kind), and there was nothing short of excitement in Arle and Carby’s day. Satan had ascended from Puyo Hell, only to get right back down… Ringo and Amitie said their gentle hellos before they decided to go shopping… Though nothing too new, it was still enough to either spook Arle or catch her off guard on the one big errand she was supposed to run today.

And what was that errand? Why, none other than training, of course!

As easy as it was to tell Satan to go home in battle, Arle felt like her complete balance in power was off as of late. She sought for answers inside of herself, but none of the _normal_ reasons came to mind. Did she eat something bad? Was it because the season was changing? Carby _was_ a lot feistier recently, so that _would_ logically make sense.

Regardless, she told herself she would worry about the intricacies later if the balance didn’t shift itself back to normal after her daily training. There was no better time like the present to traverse Primp’s forests, meditate, and maybe clear her mind and find answers.

So, that was that. That was her plan, her checklist; that was all she had to accomplish for the day, and at the end of it, maybe she could treat herself to some sweets or delicious food. No urgency. No pressing issues… just hanging around – for the most part – by herself with her own thoughts.

So why was she suddenly an anxious wreck? Simple: one day of training in the forests led her to _immediately_ going back home carrying none other than Schezo Wegey in her arms because she did a bad. Like, a big bad. Like _she burned him with her fire magic_ bad.

Schezo was up to his old tricks again; he wanted to find the source of her power and claim it for himself. She would never hand it over to him (how would that even work anyway?), though she had to admit, all of his actions were kiiiind of endearing.

So endearing, in fact, that she had developed feelings for the dark mage during one of their Puyo Battles and it has eaten up her thoughts ever since.

Unfortunately, as nice as it was to constantly have Schezo on the brain, it did _not_ help Arle with the fact that her magic was still all over the place. He came at the absolutely wrong time, and so one thing led to another and… and he was injured.

He suffered injuries and it was her fault.

Schezo didn’t want to accept her help; every time she attempt to approach him, he slapped her way with the hand that wasn’t covering the bruise-y burn. His words got a lot louder and a lot more erratic alongside it, too.

“L-Look, you’ve already done enough; get your filthy hands off of me!” He had pushed her away, but it didn’t really phase her.

“Schezo, I said I was sorry! _You’re_ the one who decided a Puyo Battle with me was a good idea. Even after I told you to stay away, too...” Arle knew she sounded mean, but she couldn’t help it. As much as the wound was her fault, she also wasn’t the one who instigated a fight. Though it didn’t matter much now. “J-just stay still… I’m taking you inside my house.”

“Uh—” The comment alone caught him off guard. His face became a little red. “You will _not_.”

“I think I will. I’m not letting that burn get infected.”

If there was one good thing about the burn, it was the fact that it didn’t allow Schezo to retaliate so quickly. Each attempt to reach for his sword that she strapped to her side, it only hurt him more. Unless he wanted to exacerbate the wound, it was in the boy’s best interests to stay put and just let Arle do all the work in the long run.

Carby, who hopped behind her, wasted no time in using his little blobby arms to throw the blankets off her bed and fluff the pillows.

After haphazardly putting the boy down, Arle asked for Carby to grab her some bandages, a bucket, and a wash cloth from the kitchen. In the meantime, she’d check out the wound and see what she could do about it.

The damage wasn’t permanent, but it wasn’t fun to look at. His favorite armor was torn from the bottom, and it would take more than just a stitch up to make it look good as new. He might as well throw it away after all of this, but she also knew how protective Schezo got over his things. He always pretended that nothing affected him, even if that wasn’t _actually_ true in the long run.

Though he tried to cover it, Arle was quick to grab his arms and pull them away. She burned this sight into her memory, before her eyes analyzed what little skin she could around it.

Carby delivered everything he needed to and left them to their own devices. Arle made sure to triple-check the water before she submerged the tiny, soft towel.

“I think once I clean it off, I can use healing magic to mend you back to normal.”

Schezo huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, “Aren’t patients allowed to deny a doctor’s treatment? Arle, please. I tire of this needless farce.”

“It’s not _needless_ , judging by how whiny you are right now.” She pointed at his dirty shirt, “Take that off.”

“I’m _sorry_?”

“I need you to take it off!”

“ _Why?!_ That’s an invasion of privacy!”

“Privacy, schmivacy—what if you’re bleeding in other spots? I need to check if everything else is okay!”

“Yeah? No thanks. Bleeding out sounds like a perfectly good option right now.”

“ _Oh my god_ , you’re not even bleeding—”

“No, but it’d be nice right about now.”

“Just take off your shirt...”

Schezo fell quiet; there _had_ to be something wrong if he was as dramatic as he was in the given moment. He hugged himself and looked away for a moment and—was that blush? No way, was he embarrassed? Arle couldn’t help the internal giggle in the back of her head; it was hard to imagine that someone as cocky and lonely as him would actually feel insecure about something.

Arle kept her hands on her hips and stared. She wasn’t going to budge. She wasn’t going anywhere. It was then that Schezo let out a long sigh and moved to undo his cape and tunic.

“Fine… but, you have to promise that you won’t panic..”

“What? Am I gonna see some big scary ghost jump out or something?”

“ _Arle_.” His stern, but snarky tone caught her off guard.

“Sorry, sorry. I won’t, I swear!”

“Good.”

He was slow to sit up, but when he did he pulled away the pieces of clothing and set them aside. Knowing he would have trouble taking off one part, she did her best to help him while still giving him some personal space. He was irritable enough already.

Though she really expected something silly – like a bunch of marker lines or something – Arle’s brain kinda shut off for a moment.

Two things split her entire thought process: one was how built he was despite his clothing being modest about it. Any other person who had muscles wouldn’t have had it peer through what they were wearing, but Schezo’s body never seemed to show that. How much training did he do? When did he work out? She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but now wasn’t the time… especially not when she saw a multitude of scars that marred his chest.

And just as Arle thought they couldn’t get any worse, she noticed that a lot of them extended to his back. One even at his _neck_.

They weren’t fresh – save the obvious – but they were evident. Black in color and similar to a tattoo, these wounds hadn’t healed over entirely, and from what it looked like… it was almost like a curse. Arle was known to handle these types of scars before, so it was honestly shocking that he never told her about them to begin with.

Where did they come from? When did they start appearing? Arle was desperate to know, but she wouldn’t bombard him with questions just yet.

She placed one gentle hand atop of one of the scars across his chest, and moved in closer to get a better look. The eerily smooth feeling made her wince.

She honestly looked like she was about to cry.

“I-I told you not to panic!” He pulled away from her, “These don’t concern you, so you can stop gawking!”

“Schezo, are you _sure_ you’re okay? I’ve… I’ve never seen these types of markings before.” She still inched forward, despite his obvious discomfort.

“They don’t hurt… much.”

“That’s not what I asked,” though, that only rose _more_ questions, “when did—no, _where_ did these come from? How did they get there? Are these from…”

“C-calm down, you’re making _me_ panic,” Schezo took one long sigh as his arms fell to his sides, “I don’t know. If I could tell you, I would. They’ve been here for as long as I can remember, and seem to only extend further depending on how much magic I can grab ahold of.”

“Are these from Puyo Battles?”

“No… I don’t think so. Otherwise, they probably would’ve wrapped around my entire body now.”

Arle was deep in thought; if Schezo was that worried about the markings across his body, it made a lot more sense as to why he was always in isolation. He was never the type to go to parties or to tag along on adventures, and always seemed to loathe whenever people asked him questions that tried to probe deeper into his personal life.

The exception to this rule always seemed to be Arle, but even _then_ it wasn’t always easy to get him talking. Be it through his slips of the tongue or just being short and curt, talking to Schezo always felt like pulling teeth.

Arle could go all day with inquiries, but she knew when to stop. If anything, the one surefire way to get Schezo to accept her help was to force it upon him.

And that’s what she did the moment she started her chants for a healing spell— _Purifa_ , specifically.

Schezo’s face flushed as he took her hands into his own, “Arle, seriously, don’t—”

“I know a lot of healing spells, you know! If you let me help you, I’m sure those nasty scars will disappear in no time!”

“Didn’t you just rant to me about your magic’s instability?! Besides, this isn’t my pride talking, I am serious when I say it won’t work.”

It didn’t hurt to try, but it wasn’t so simple, either; Arle couldn’t help but yelp as a mysterious force surged through her body and the magical spell shattered instantly.

Schezo pulled her close, “A-Arle—!”

“I-I’m fine, I promise,” Her face was _red_ , and her fatigue: evident, “I just… I wish my magic wasn’t so wacky, right now. I’d really like to help.”

“I know… I know it’s in your nature to help.”

The two of them sat in their close silence together, and neither of them wanted to be the one who spoke first. They were closer—a _lot_ closer than they normally would be, and although it was a little bit jarring… it felt nice to be able to let their guards down around one another.

Still, comfort wasn’t going to answer Arle’s questions. She needed to some digging – no matter how angry he got.

“So… why didn’t you say anything?” She kept a steady eye on Schezo’s face.

“It wasn’t anyone’s issue other than my own.”

“And? A lot of our wacky adventures _aren’t_ usually our problem until someone makes it so.”

“And that’s exactly why I wouldn’t say anything,” He huffed, “Besides, even though it shouldn’t get to me, people would only tease me for it. They wouldn’t _dare_ help someone like me.”

“I would.”

Schezo shut up _real_ fast.

“L-look...” She turned his face to where they both stared each other down, “I-I know I’m probably _not_ the person you’d like to help. I-I’m sure I’m kind of a nuisance, and I might irritate you, but please know that I—um… I, would, uh… I’d definitely help you. N-No matter what!”

Arle found herself in dangerous territory; had Schezo been anyone else, Arle would’ve easily gave the friendship speech she always prepared, but… this wasn’t just _any_ old friend. This was the dark mage.

And what was this misunderstood dark mage to her? Well…

_Clearly_ he was something more to her, because the moment he tried to say anything else the two of them found themselves sharing a tiny kiss with one another.

It wasn’t something Schezo expected, but what else was she supposed to do or say to let him know that she was serious about what she said? She hadn’t realized everyone’s jests and avoidance had gotten to him.

Maybe that’s why he was always so snarky and seemingly shallow all the time…

Arle broke away—though not without her embarrassment coming on strong.

“O-oh, geez, um.. S-sorry, Schezo, I should’ve—um...” She cleared her throat, “HEY! So, about that wound you h-have, let me see if the towel is still warm and then we can try to clean it up yeah? Yeah.”

She didn’t give him _any_ leeway into answering—though, not that he would be able to. He was just as rattled as she was. There wasn’t much he could do other than nod.


End file.
